


Shadows of London

by SockFightChampion01



Category: Assassin's Creed, Downton Abbey
Genre: Alive!Matthew, Amnesiac!Matthew, F/M, I hope, Mary's boyfriends are Templars, Maybe Evie's kids show up but idk guys, Not overly-graphic, Probably some stabbing, just a little bit, likely some canon-typical violence, non-canon for everyone, yay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SockFightChampion01/pseuds/SockFightChampion01
Summary: Matthew Crawley isn’t dead. But if he isn’t dead, then where has he been for the last three years? Why, he’s been training to become one of England’s finest Assassins under the tutelage of the son of a mentor, entirely oblivious of his past...until it collides violently with his present. Matthew will have to make a decision between that which he once loved and still loves, and the duties that come with the life he now lives. But is it entirely impossible to not have both?(A more adventurous and decidedly Un-Downton take on what happened to our dearest little chap)





	1. Anomie

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello everyone! I wish you all a happy hump day.  
> This is my very first Downton Abbey fic, as well as Assassin's Creed, so please don't eat me alive if something isn't to canon or if I've written something wrong. I do, however, appreciate reviews and I am more than happy to change anything if there's something wrong with grammar or spelling, or if something isn't correct.  
> Lastly, I aged the characters down a bit since I couldn't quite picture some of them running around climbing and swinging from buildings and leaping from moving carriages and trains at 36.  
> Matthew is 26 when he "dies," and Mary is about 25 or 26. Something like that.  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this the first chapter! School is sort of tough right now, so it may take some time for the next chapter to be uploaded.  
> In any case, I shall see you then. Enjoy!

Everything was wrong.

The people, the area, his clothes, everything.

Even the rain felt wrong on his skin and tasted wrong when he got some in his mouth. It wasn’t fresh and clean. It was dirty with factory smoke and soot. It wasn’t familiar.

Nothing was familiar here.

He gripped the sides of the torn jacket he wore and tugged it closer to his body, trying to keep warm until he could find shelter. Wherever that would be.

His stomach growled and he wrapped his arms tighter about his middle to ease the pain. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d last eaten, but he knew it hadn’t been today.

“Ay’ watch it ya tosser!” a voice shouted as his shoulder collided with someone. He stumbled aside and kept on his way, nearly toppling over in the process. He muttered a brief apology, but didn’t look back.

He had to find a workhouse. He could at least get a job for a brief period of time, maybe enough to get some food in his stomach and a bed, but not much else. 

It had been a long time since anything felt natural to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering the streets of London, but he knew it hadn’t been his whole life.

The only problem was that he couldn’t remember anything else. The first thing he could remember was waking up in a ditch cold and wet in only a ripped shirt and trousers. That had been the start of his wanderings around the city. Time had been a blur ever since. In and out of workhouses and homes for those too poor to care for themselves.

I’m one of them, he thought. Or, at least, he was now. A life among the poor of England, scrounging for food from wherever it could be found, begging for scraps and bits of money, able to only take on temporary work, was not what he thought of when he tried to piece together where he had come from.

Nothing fit. He was beginning to get frustrated with how little he knew of himself. The unfamiliar environment didn’t help, nor did the fact that he constantly felt like he was riding a whirlwind from one place to the next.

Lifting his eyes up, he glanced around in search of a workhouse he could duck into. Seeing nothing, he stopped and released a weary sigh. There was nothing around. Despite the fact that he was surrounded by shelter, he would never be taken in.

He glanced around, considering briefly whether or not he might be able to pass a night in one of the back alleys. It would be cold, and likely wet, but he would probably live to see another sunrise. He turned aside from the busy street to head back towards the nearest darkened inroad, shivering all the while. It was getting late and clouds had overrun the sky, spitting cruelly upon those unfortunate ones like himself who were out of doors.

Upper and middle class people gathered underneath the shop awnings, trying to keep clear of the sky’s onslaught. He didn’t blame them, but he wished that they could be a little kinder and not hog all the space. Sighing, he continued on his way, squinting and keeping his head low to prevent rain from getting in his eyes.

Passing all of them by, seen but unnoticed, he ducked around a corner into the shadows of the alley. He found it funny how, just be stepping around a wall, one could enter into a completely different world. No one in the higher classes would dare set foot beyond the invisible boundary he had just crossed as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Now that he was relatively sheltered, he stopped and leant against a wall, just to get his bearings and rest for a moment. He shut his eyes briefly, just letting the sounds sink in around him.

Motor cars bumping up and down the lane, an occasional horse and cart.

Rain striking endlessly at the cobblestones.

A scuffle at the other end of the alley…

It took him a moment to register the last one fully. Once he did, his eyes snapped open and he pushed off the wall, glancing down the shadowy street. Squinting, he made out four hazy figures. Three of them were big brutish shadows, but the fourth was substantially smaller as it fell to the ground with an audible thump and splash.

He flinched and hugged his arms over his chest, telling himself it would be better to simply turn away and not get involved. Still, no matter how he tried to tear his gaze away, he just could keep his eyes from flitting to the man being beaten on the alley floor.

Suddenly, his feet were moving before he could stop them. Something deep within him couldn’t allow the three men to continue their assault. Keeping to the wall, he approached them as quietly as he could manage.

The closer he got, the better look he got at the attackers. They weren’t an ordinary group of thugs who wandered the alleys and were hired for this sort of thing. No, these men looked like...like toffs.

The man on the ground began to speak up against them.

“Please! I beg you! I know nothing, I swear it! I didn’t see Corbeau! I swear it!” he cried.

“Shut up! The boss don’t like loose ends,” one of the bruisers snapped.

His shoe scuffed against the pavement and they stopped their assault on the man lying prone on the ground and their heads shot up.

He couldn’t help it. His breath stuttered and he shrunk back towards the wall, fear coiling in his stomach. All three of them stalked forward, their faces impossible to make out in the darkness. He was reminded of a pack of wild dogs as they advanced on him and he tried his best to back out of the alley.

In his heart, he wanted to stand, and maybe fight if he had to, but his mind beat wildly against the notion and was winning. His eyes darted wildly from figure to figure as they separated and began to flank him. A jolt of trepidation and sheer terror speared through his gut and he swallowed thickly, trying to keep them from seeing how his hands shook. Then one of them spoke.

“You saw somethin’ you shouldn’a seen,” the one on his right said as he approached and grabbed him by his already torn jacket front. A sniff and wrinkle of the man’s nose, and then he continued. “He’s gotta be poorer ‘an dirt. Ain’t nobody gon’ta miss ‘im.”

It may as well be true. I don’t remember anyone who might miss me, he thought glumly.

“Good. We can dispose of him quickly and no one will be the wiser,” came another, more upper-class sounding voice. He felt his heart drop. Men from the high end of society could be particularly cruel to nobodies like him.

The first blow struck him in the jaw and he winced as his head snapped to the side with the force. The man who had struck him had to be wearing a ring of some kind. He would be feeling the bruise for weeks most likely.

If he lived long enough, that is.

The second strike came, not from a hand, but from a cane of some sort. Likely the ornamental head. Again, his head was jerked to the side, but this time a different kind of sting hit him. Something warm and viscous slid down from the bridge of his nose and under his left eye. He hissed as the bruised area throbbed violently and he screwed his eyes shut.

The air left him as the one holding him up delivered a powerful upper cut to his midsection. Gasping for breath, he attempted to regain his bearings as the world swam.

“Oh for God’s sake, will you finish it already?” came the posh voice from before. “We don’t have much time as it is. The Assassins will be on us at any moment.”

“In that case, am I just a bit too early?” a new voice inquired.

Instantly the hand that was on his shirt disappeared and he crumpled to the ground from the lack of support. Though his vision was fuzzy and everything around him blurred together, he still caught the flash of silver and the sounds of a blade being driven into flesh.

Three loud thumps were heard and then nothing for a moment.

He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but he was having some trouble, what with the pain in his stomach.

“No, I’d say I was just in the nick a’ time,” the voice said and he saw a shadow fall over him. Glancing up, he was met with the sight of a man clad almost entirely in black, the look only broken up by a grey waistcoat and a red sash. “Look’s like they did quite a number on ya’,” the man said.

Sliding back toward the wall, he moved to get as far away from the new stranger as he could. The man held up his hands and crouched down to his height so they would have been eye level if he could have seen his eyes.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe, mate. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he said gently, slowly reaching a hand up and pushing the beaked hood back and revealing his face and a pair of kind eyes. “Actually,” he started, “I’ve got to thank you. I’ve been looking for those three nobs for weeks. And, also thanks to you, I’ve got ‘im too.” He turned and pointed at the man, still lying on the ground further down the alley.

He glanced at the man and swallowed. “W-Who were those men?” he asked quietly but curiously as he glanced at the bodies strewn about the pavement.

The man chuckled and straightened up in one smooth motion. He moved over to him with an almost catlike grace, and extended a gloved hand for him to take. Despite the blatantly obvious fact that this man was behind dangerous, he accepted it, and the man helped pull him back onto his feet. Keeping near the wall, he was able to remain upright this time when the man let go of him.

He didn’t fail to notice the rather large bracer that dominated the man’s left forearm, and the gleaming blade that seemed to be relatively sheathed on the underside.

“They’re Templars. Only some of the worst scum this world has to offer,” the man said, striding off down the alley to help the other man up.

He followed a short ways behind, close enough to hear their brief exchange after the man was in a sitting position.

“You alright, Tubbs?” the man asked.

“Yeah Mr. Frye. I’ll be fine. They ain’t managed to knock the piss outta me yet,” he replied. The other man chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder gently before straightening up.

“Good. Go home and get some rest. I’ll let you know when I need ya,” he said. The man on the ground nodded and got to his feet before limping off with surprising speed down the alley and disappearing in the shadows.

“So what’s your name?” The man inquired, coming to stand in front of him again, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling at him.

Swallowing, he thought for a moment before responding. “I-I don’t know. I have none,” he replied. The man quirked a brow.

“Well, that’s a problem,” he said, his smile falling and molding into a look of concern. “Do you remember where ya came from?”

“All I remember is waking up in a ditch, cold and wet, about two months ago,” he replied, reaching up to hug his arms again. It had become a nervous habit, he supposed.  
The man gave a small laugh and his eyes sparkled with mirth. “You sound like a toff,” he said.

“I’m not a toff,” he replied, frowning.

“Ya certainly don’t look like one,” he said before turning serious once again. “I’d like to help ya, but I don’t know how I can. Are you sure ya can’t remember anythin’ else?”

“No I can’t! I’ve been trying for weeks now! Nothing will come!” He exclaimed, slumping against the wall as he let the full weight of his problems bearing down on him.

“‘Ey, ‘Ey there mate, it’s alright. It’s alright,” the man said, moving over to him, but not touching him. “Everything’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll remember soon.”

“But it’s been weeks now and I still can’t recall even one little thing!” He cried. Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the two dark eyes, still sparking, but not with mirth.

“I don’t know how I can help ya, but I do want to do something for ya,” he said softly. “I’d help ya find out who you are, but neither of us have anythin’ to go on. I can give ya the next best thing, though.”

“What’s the next best thing?” He asked, his curiosity rising out of the depths of his despair. The man smiled again.

“I’d like to give you a place where you’ll be able to figure yourself out,” he answered.

“How?”

“Ever hear of the Assassins? You’d make a great fit.”

Assassins?! he thought, alarmed, me? He couldn’t picture himself doing what the man had just done, but he supposed it might be better than the life he was currently living. He inhaled shakily before meeting the man’s eyes again.

“Why?” he inquired, “why would I make a great fit? Me? A piece of gutter trash who doesn’t even know his own name?”

The man smiled gently. “Because, you’re brave. You moved to help ol’ Tubbs back there when he was gettin’ a beating from those nobs.”

“No. No I’m not. I wanted to run! I didn’t help him at all!” he protested. The man simply shook his head.

“But you didn’t run. You stood your ground, even though ya may have been terrified. And you meant to help him. I may not ‘ave been here from the start of things, but I saw enough,” he rebutted. “I’ve been looking for a man like you for a long time.”

“...As a servant?” he asked, unsure why else the man may want him. It would be easier work than he was used to, perhaps. But then the man threw his head back and laughed out loud like it was the funniest thing he’d heard that week.

“God, no!” he said finally, regaining his bearings. He smiled again. “No, as a friend.”

“A friend?” he inquired.

“And, hopefully, an Assassin. I’ve been ridiculously short-staffed recently thanks to a few, well, ‘complications,’ but it’s alright,” the man replied.

“I don’t know how to fight,” he said, his protests becoming weaker and weaker at this point.

“We’ll show ya how. Don’t worry, mate, I’ll make a fighter outta you yet,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now, if you accept, then we oughta cut outta here soon.”

For a moment he got the feeling that he was standing on a ledge, staring out into an abyss. It was...a leap of faith. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and pushed off the wall.  
Grinning from ear to ear, the man extended his hand and he accepted it in a handshake.

“Name’s Frye. Joshua Frye,” he said.

“I’d tell you my name, but I can’t remember what it is.”

Joshua laughed. “In that case we’ll have to give ya one,” he said, pausing to think for a minute. “How’s about Dan? Or Daniel? What do ya think?”

“I like it. It doesn’t fit quite right, but it’ll do,” he replied.

“Dan it is then!”


	2. Three Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel and Mary three years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again. Managed to kick this one out fairly quick. I hope it's okay since it was a filler and I got bored about halfway through. I just wanna write Matthew! I'm so sorry!  
> Regardless, I hope you all enjoy it, and I will do my best to get back with more Matthew soon.  
> Oh, P.S. how does one add italics to the text in here? Is it the thing where you put / before the words?  
> Guess I'll find out in a minute...

September, 1924

 

Isobel Crawley enjoyed nothing better nowadays than to watch the rain as it fell outside her parlor window and watered the plant life in her garden. Sighing, she sipped at her tea and thought about how boring her life must seem now. Of course, she still had her work at the hospital, but she’d spent less time there in recent days.

Perhaps it was because it was nearing the anniversary of her only son’s death. It was never a good time for any of the Crawley family. Particularly Mary and Isobel. While the latter had her own ways of coping, she wasn’t entirely certain what her daughter in law did to keep the pain and loneliness at bay. One thing was for certain, they had both tried their best to move on. Something easier said than done. It had taken Mary months to return to the land of the living after his passing, and though it had taken Isobel much less time, that didn’t mean she was numb to the feelings.

No, she felt them, alright. Especially on days like this. Days where it rained in the late afternoon and no sun shined through the bay window opposite her settee. It was worse when there was no one to accompany her for tea. Much as she may not like to admit it, Violet had become a rather steady presence in her life, one she did not look forward to seeing go.

Not that she disliked her cousin, it was simply that they still maintained a somewhat rocky relationship from time to time.

She missed him. On days like this, she missed him so very much. Which was perhaps another reason why she liked them so much. If she was alone long enough, sometimes she could pretend, just for a few moments, that nothing had never changed. That Matthew was still alive and sitting with her, watching the summer rains with her and commenting on the weather.

And then she would wake up and let it go with a sigh.

“I suppose its what comes with getting older. Life stops giving us things and begins taking them away,” she said in her usual well-it-can’t-be-helped tone. Still, the last thing she expected to have taken away from her was her son.

She’d passed tears years ago, but she still couldn’t avoid the sensation of a hole growing in the pit of her stomach.

 

~oOo~

 

The landscape flashed past in a blur of greens and browns, the sky a curtain of blue and white as Mary watched Yorkshire disappear in the distance, her forehead pressed against the window pane. Sighing, she focused on the sight of the glass fogging from her breath.

It would be good for her to escape to London and spend time amongst civilization’s best. She wouldn’t have to endure another painful anniversary in the company of her sister and parents. She was torn with regards to how they treated the day of Matthew’s passing. They weren’t certain whether to celebrate George’s birthday, treat it as they would any other day, or mourn. In any circumstance, they didn’t think it best to tiptoe around Mary.

For the last two years, she had preferred to be left alone or with George so they could spend time together. Just him and her.

However, she wouldn’t be able to be with her little boy this year. Her Aunt Rosamund had offered for her to stay at her apartment in Belgrave Square so she could have some extra time in London outside of the Season.

She had been grateful for the excuse to escape. Though she had made drastic improvements in two years, she couldn’t help but feel smothered by her family and the memories that she had from their time spent together at Downton.

Of course, they had spent time together in London, but that was considerably less and she felt confident that she could survive those memories too.

It was only for a week, anyway. It wasn’t as though she was leaving her home for good. She would be on the return train this time in seven days.

Who knew? Perhaps she might make new friends.

The sentiment had been her mother’s, and Mary had been extremely doubtful, what with her still somewhat tarnished reputation from the Pamuk scandal, but she had felt vaguely hopeful as well. It might not be such a bad thing to have some fresher faces in her roster of acquaintances.

She glanced over to the hallway where porters and passengers moved single-file in opposite directions to different parts of the train.

Checking the time, she briefly considered going up to the dining car for luncheon, but decided to wait a bit longer before she did. She had always been more introverted and quiet, strong and silent, and she preferred being alone.

And that was where Matthew had been especially good for her. He managed to break her out of her shell, and only he saw the true Mary that no one else ever did.  
Like her mother in law, she was past tears, but the sadness refused to leave her.

Standing up quickly to dispel the line of thought, she made her way out into the hall and headed for the dining car. She’d get a table alone, but being surrounded by action would keep her mind on other things.

 

~oOo~

 

Three hours later, Mary found herself stepping off the train along with most of the other passengers at the London station. Glancing around, she moved through the crowd searching for her Aunt. Her baggage would be collected and sent to 35 Belgrave Square before the day was out.

Unlike most other trips she had taken in the past, she did not bring Anna this time. She did not wish to take her friend and lady’s maid away from her husband for longer than necessary, and this trip was solely for selfish reasons. After all, the pair had been through so much to be with one another, and it would never be Mary who parted them for very long.

Doing her best to see over the heads and hats of the crowd, she finally caught sight of her Aunt and began to push her way over.

“Ah, Mary my dear,” Rosamund greeted once Mary reached her. Embracing her Aunt briefly, she placed a kiss on her cheek before pulling away, as was custom. “And how have you been?” 

She gave a light groan and turn of her eyes before answering. “I’ve been better, but I’ve certainly been worse,” she replied. Rosamund gave her a sympathetic look and Mary knew she understood in her way.

“We should get back, it’s almost time for tea,” Rosamund stated before linking arms with Mary and guiding her off the platform.

/Yes/, she thought as her Aunt hailed a cab, /This trip will do me some good. I hope./


	3. Ascended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our dear boy gets himself into trouble...

If any of the many citizens of London had happened to look up at the many tall buildings towering above the cobblestone streets, they might have gasped. In the haze of the late afternoon drizzle of rain, two dark figures leapt from one rooftop to the next as though it were natural and effortless as breathing.

And to them, it was.

Dan smiled as he thought it to himself, his arms pumping at his sides as his boots struck at the shingles and cement beneath them. As he reached the end of yet another roof, he crouched lightly, feeling the power coil in his legs before he pushed off and hopped smoothly to the next surface and immediately starting to run.

He’d only been doing this for three years, while his partner had been free-running since his early childhood. He pushed his legs harder in an attempt to keep up with said partner. Though he’d gotten much faster and using his surroundings to his advantage came much more naturally, Josh still managed to keep ahead of him by a few meters at least.

He grinned as he leapt off another roof, this time aiming for a ledge and finding purchase on a horizontal flagpole. Hauling himself up, he realized he had lost sight of his friend. Pausing briefly, he looked up and around, finally spotting him racing across the rooftop he had missed. Instantly, he started moving again and, once he had enough momentum, scaled the wall.

Arriving on the roof, he saw his friend had stopped. They had reached their destination. Walking the last few meters, he came to a halt beside the other man. Josh glanced at him and grinned.

“You managed to keep up this time,” he said, hands rising to his hips as he surveyed the street below them. Dan nodded.

“Well, I’d like to think that I’m getting faster. But we must always consider the fact that you might be slowing down,” he replied jokingly. Josh cast him a mock-scowl. 

“I’m only 28. I’ve still got a lot of life left in me,” he said, “Besides, it’s gonna take both of us to beat Corbeau. I don’t need you gettin’ lost.” Dan shook his head, stepped a few feet away and crouched down, eyeing the building opposite them.

It looked perfectly normal. Not a great deal of security or anything like that. It didn’t seem quite like the place where the Templar’s current top dog would be hiding. Then again, he really hoped that they were right.

Josh had been on Le Corbeau’s tail since before he had found Dan. Actually, because of the incident involving Tubbs and the three men--who he later learned were known as “Blighters”--the man had vanished, only acting covertly. Dan had known what a source of frustration this had been to Josh, as the Templar had repeatedly attempted to keep the man off his scent by abducting and doing away with his men.

He knew that Josh, as good natured and kind as he was, would very much like to see him hanged.

Or impaled on the receiving end of his hidden blade.

Shaking the thoughts off, he focused on the building and concentrated. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Reopening them, he found the world bathed entirely in blue. The interior of the building was bare for him to see the movements and numbers of men inside. Most were marked in red, but one, alone in a room away from the rest, glowed a bright golden-yellow.

He smirked. That would be him.

“About...fifteen, maybe twenty, guards,” Josh said noncommittally. Dan smirked.

“23 guards, Josh. Stop estimating before you get us both killed,” he chuckled

“Well, if I don’t, the council certainly will,” Josh said, getting to his feet and preparing to launch himself at the building with the help of the grappling hook and line equipped to his bracer.

Feeling his stomach drop at the remembrance of what had happened the previous day, he approached Josh and waited for him to be ready…

 

24 hours earlier…

 

Dan leaned against a wall, his arms folded over his chest, as he watched the two men argue with one another over an expensive looking desk. Oak, probably. Dark stained too. It was a piece of furniture befitting an Assassin mentor.

Speaking of which, he sighed as he once again tuned into the loud conversation. Josh was once again angrily stating the merits of going after Corbeau while the mentor angrily stated the merits of not going after Corbeau. The two seemed at an impasse, but neither would admit it.

Dan had heard it all a thousand times before. He’d certainly been to enough council meetings shadowing Josh to know. It bothered him that they wouldn’t just let him go. Corbeau, though not exactly the most important Templar, was the main reason the Order had returned to London for another shot at taking over.

And from what he could see, Josh was the only one willing to remedy the situation. During the last Industrial Revolution, his father and aunt had all but decimated the Templar population in London, and most of England as well.

But that had changed in recent years, apparently. Largely because of Le Corbeau. He had built up the Templar community, making it somewhat safe for them to return to London. Josh wanted to see that changed.

Dan knew that, much like his father, Josh possessed a wild streak a mile long. That, combined with his strong sense of justice and somewhat quick temper, often made him a bit impulsive. Another poor side-effect was that it also caused him to butt heads with the council on a number of issues.

This was one of those issues, but this time Dan could sense that it wasn’t his friend’s semi-rash nature that was the source of this one.

“Ethan, you’ve got to let me go this time! I’ve been on this mission for three years and I’ve finally found Corbeau!” he argued, trying to persuade the man on the other side of the desk. He wasn’t much older, only by about two years, though he sported a bit more facial hair than Josh did. He sighed.

“Josh, you know why I can’t let you. The council thinks you’re too attached to this job, and by the way you’re arguing to keep it, I have to say I agree with them!” he replied, his brows drawn together in a frown. “I promise it’s not that I don’t believe you, I do! But the rest of the council is concerned about the growing number of higher-ranking Templars that have arrived, and are recruiting for the Order. The growth of the Brotherhood has stagnated and at a very bad time too, what with all the cleanup being done from the War.”

Josh sighed.

“I can’t sit by and do nothing, Ethan. He’s--He’s killed too many of my men. I can’t just let Corbeau walk away and have their lives on me,” he said, bracing himself on the desk. The other man’s face softened and he stepped around the table.

“Look, Josh,” he began, laying a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “I know how much this means to you, I really do. And the council does want him dead, but not right now. I’m not telling you to let him go. I’m saying keep an eye on him until the council gives the okay.”

Josh refused to meet his eyes. “It’s not what Father would have done,” he said quietly. Ethan sighed.

“I know, brother, believe me, I know,” he said, withdrawing behind the desk again. Josh straightened up and took a deep breath, nodding slowly.

“I’ll be in my quarters if you need me,” he said before exiting the room at a pace which Dan knew heralded a storm. He watched his friend go with a sadness before he pushed off the wall and made to leave the Mentor and older Frye brother in peace.

The door knob in hand, he was halfway into the hall when he heard the man speak up.

“You watch after him, Daniel. He needs you more than you know,” came the voice.

Not even bothering to nod, he’d simply left the room…

 

“You ready?” Josh asked, glancing over at him. Dan shook himself out of his thoughts and checked his right hand bracer, making sure that it was prepared for the coming flight. Giving his friend a single nod, they each took a breath before firing the small but powerful grappling hook into the building beyond.

Once sure that both their lines would hold, they each glanced at each other and smiled before tucking their feet up and swinging silently through the air toward the building. Spreading his feet out, Dan was careful not to make too much noise on impact. With the hook’s hold weakened on the stone building, he yanked on it and it retracted into his bracer. He would have to replace the line once they got back to the compound, but for now it could be used at least one or two more times if he was careful.

Turning around and pressing himself against the wall, he looked over at Josh and noticed that they had landed on opposite sides of a window. Unfortunately, it had a glass pane and didn’t look like it was meant to be opened. They would have to find another way in if they were to enter undetected.

Their target was on the next floor up, so they would have to enter silently on this floor, or find another further down if they wanted to maintain the element of surprise. Grabbing the wall in a death grip, he chanced a look down at the next floor. There was a ledge similar to the one they were standing on, and a balcony not far off. Perhaps they had aimed a bit too high when they jumped.

Glancing back over at Josh, he gave a small shrug and jerked his head downwards to indicate his findings. A nod was his only reply as his friend dropped and grabbed at their current ledge with both hands before easing himself down the wall.

Sighing in resignation, Dan did the same, letting his feet drop out from under him and instantly snatching at the stone ledge so he wouldn’t fall to his death. Following Josh’s path down the wall, which was littered with ridges and little protrusions he could find a hand and foothold on, he made it to the balcony.

They perched on the ledge and balustrade, silently preparing for their attack. Closing his eyes, Dan reactivated his Vision and scanned the floor they would be entering on. A smirk split across his face. Only about three of the guards were patrolling this floor.

However, he and Josh were only two, which left them in a bit of a situation. It was made worse by the fact that the three other men weren’t all together. Dan thought about what their options could be in this circumstance.

One: They could go in, guns blazing and stabbing left and right.

Two: They could sneak in, and try to quietly take out the guards, at risk of being seen.

Or Three: They could sneak in, and try to slip around the guards.

He knew that Josh would prefer the third, though sometimes, like his father, he seemed to prefer the philosophy of “no one will notice if there’s no one left to notice.”

However, this job was sensitive. He doubted that Josh would want to cock it up. If they made it inside, past all the guards, and got to Corbeau, they’d have the man bang to rights. All that would be left to do was bring him peace.

The world flashed and then returned to normal dull greys and browns of London. Usually the rain provided fair camouflage against the backdrop of the buildings. Most of the Assassins chose to wear clothes based on the times; suits and whatnot. Both Dan and Josh found it to be tiresome and more restrictive, at least with regard to the English fashions. Both were happier to wear older, but still relatively inconspicuous clothing. They could still blend in and disappear as easily as the next Assassin.

Dan, for himself, preferred an ebony leather coat with a single row of tarnished silver buttons and row of buckles on his right side, keeping the front closed. The tails just struck the back of his knee above his boot. It didn’t do much during the daytime, but it came in handy at night. He was nothing more than an imperceptibly blur of shadow then. So far he’d managed to keep himself from getting shot, though he’d had a few near misses.

Josh turned his head back and gave a grim nod. The older man dropping off the balustrade, Dan waited, poised, for his chance. Perhaps they had waited long enough for the three guards to group up.

Reactivating his Vision, he flickered his eyes across the room beyond the stone wall again. Two of the guards had joined up and were talking on one side of the floor. The other was alone, walking to the other end of the hallway, behind the stairs.

None of them were watching the balcony.

Taking his chance, Josh nudged the French door open gently and slipped inside. Switching his focus to keeping quiet, Dan followed suit, and crouched against the wall to stay out of sight.

Josh had rolled across the floor and was pressed against the opposite wall that blocked off stairwell. He signalled that he would take the two, and Dan could chase after the third, who had his back to them and was staring out a window.

Nodding once, he rolled over to the same wall his friend was pressed up against, doing his best to keep any metal attached to his person from making any noise.

Unfortunately, the guards heard him anyway. Or perhaps it wasn’t so unfortunate. As long as it attracted them both, there wouldn’t be much of an issue.

“Hey, did ya hear that?” came one of their voices.

“No...but did you open tha’ window over there?” the other inquired.

“No...Don’t think Jimmy did, either,” the first said.

“Oughta check it out then, I s’pose,” the second sniffed.

As soon as they heard both pairs of boots on the floor, Josh gave Dan a quick thumbs up to let him know it was safe to move. Nodding in confirmatory silence, he crept to the other end of the wall and used his Vision again. The third guard was still stopped at the window, staring out at something beyond. Looking more closely to understand what he would be up against, he saw that his target was carrying a rifle of some sort. Likely private made and not standard issue.

With his back fully to his soon-to-assailant, the man would hopefully make a simple target. Reaching to his right wrist, he checked the Phantom Blade that made up the underside of his grappling hook bracer.The thin metal blade was in place, the two prongs that extended to form a miniature crossbow currently folded inward until he flicked his wrist. 

Chancing his first glance around the wall, he saw that the man had begun to move again, blessedly not in his direction, but around the corner. As soon as he passed around it, Dan darted forward. There were very few places to hide, likely courtesy of Corbeau attempting to discourage just this sort of thing. Despite the seemingly low concentration of guards, most Assassins and Novices would take one look at the site and report back without completing the mission.

But, then again, that was why they were here. Because no one else would do it. Technically, Dan wouldn’t either if Josh hadn’t all but conned him into going. He trusted his best friend, and knew how much this would mean to him after not being able to complete one mission for three years. Three years worth of dead ends, macabre warnings, and heated arguments with the council.

However, as he moved stealthily down the hall, he couldn’t help but swear that if he died today he would kill Josh. Sure, he owed him his life and they were best friends, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have shortcomings.

Such as his knack for getting us both into trouble, he thought as he reached the next corner, hand twitching at his side. If this was going to work, even with the Phantom Blade, he would have to get close to the third man. The problem lay in the rifle. Even if the guard didn’t use it, it would fall to the floor when he died and raise the alarm, even with him dead.

Hoping the man wouldn’t turn until he reached the next wall, Dan crept forward, staying low behind him and praying that his dark clothing wouldn’t suddenly be an issue in such a brightly lit room.

Both of his hands ready at his sides, he stepped closer and closer to the man, staying safely in his blind spot.

A sudden muffled thump sounding from the next hallway over drew both of their attention. The guard tightened his grip on his rifle and went still, Dan doing the same. The man quietly called out to his partners.

“Bill? Alley?” he called tentatively, slowly starting to move forward. He was getting to close to the next corner. If Josh didn’t manage to get the two presumably now-dead guards out of sight before the third came around, they would be in trouble. Preparing to make his move, Dan straightened up and made for the man…  
...who turned at the last second.

In a moment of panic, he raised his right arm and fired the Phantom Blade just as the guard stumbled back a few steps. It caught the man in the neck, and he fell over. As quietly as he could manage, Dan raced to his side and grabbed his shirt collar with one hand and the rifle with the other before either could hit the ground. Slowly lowering both to the hardwood floor, he reached up and ghosted his fingers over the man’s eyes to shut them. “May you have peace,” he whispered before pulling him off to the side and pausing to reload the Phantom Blade with another round.

Straightening up, he moved to go around the corner, but came face to face with Josh and jumped slightly. Putting a hand on his chest, he caught his breath.

“You about scared the piss out of me,” he hissed at his friend. Josh shrugged before looking down at the deceased guard on the floor, blade sticking out of his neck.

“Sorry. I see that you’ve been puttin’ the Phantom Blade to good use, then,” he remarked. Dan nodded.

“It’s not just an antique,” he replied, absentmindedly lifting a hand to the newer of his two bracers. It had been a gift from Josh once he had graduated from Novice to Assassin about four months prior. It was a fairly original design from the French Revolution, with all the embellishments and woodwork from the time and place. It had quickly become a favorite weapon. It was easier to take out targets from afar these days than it was to walk up to them in a crowd and stab them from behind.

“Well then, let’s get moving. There’s still two floors between us and Corbeau,” Josh said, heading for the stairs. Sighing and shaking his head, Dan followed after him.  
Ever a man of action, he thought.

 

~oOo~

 

The next floor wasn’t much different; though there were more guards, there was also more furniture to hide behind. He and Josh had systematically taken out or at least rendered unconscious all of the guards on the next two floors and they found themselves outside of the door of the room in which they had first spotted their primary target.

Standing on the side of the door opposite Josh, he reloaded the Phantom Blade for the fourth time, ready to take another shot if his friend missed. After all, while he hadn’t known them for as long, and he didn’t command them, he had known Josh’s gang too. He glanced out from under his own beaked hood at his partner, waiting for the signal.

Josh met his eyes and gave a single tight nod.

Silence.

Then, an earth-shattering bang as Josh pulled his leg back and struck it forward, knocking the door from it’s hinges.

His friend entered the room, pistol drawn to fire. Dan waited a half second before quickly swirling in after him, aiming over his shoulder. He couldn’t keep his face from dropping into a frown no matter how hard he tried. Josh turned loose a string of profanities he rarely heard the man use.

Dan quirked a brow and flicked his eyes down to look at him. “Woo. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He stated, trying to lighten the situation. Josh scoffed.

“Used to,” he replied gruffly before striding further into the room, clearing the view for the other Assassin.

There was a man seated at a desk in the center of the room, staring straight ahead at the wall. A cloth gag was tied in his mouth and he appeared to be bound to the chair. He was sweating profusely and his hands were gripping the chair arms so tightly that his knuckles all but glowed white. He looked terrified.

A relatively natural reaction to two armed men kicking down your office door and pointing weapons at your head, ready to blow it off at a moment’s notice.

Or...rather an underreaction.

“You? You’re Corbeau? I don’t believe this,” Josh growled, moving to the other side of the room.

Dan narrowed his eyes on the man. Anyone else in this situation who had as much fear in their eyes as he did would be terrified and screaming. He couldn’t picture this man as Le Corbeau, the formidable enemy that had been a constant in his life for the last three years. He thought he would be younger, with darker, soulless eyes, and more hair.

“I don’t like this,” Dan said, his brow creasing in suspicion.

However, he had learned early on to not let appearances fool him, at least, not for very long.

Still, he couldn’t deny that there was something happening here. The man hadn’t even bothered to look at either of them, as though he were unaware of their presence. Though when Josh approached him, his breathing quickened and his grip on the arms of the chair tightened even more. Dan honestly feared that if he squeezed any harder the bones would break the skin.

Cautiously, he sidled up to the desk--yet another fine piece of woodwork--and eyed their “target.” The man’s eyes didn’t even flicker. Slowly, he moved beside the man and crouched so he was eyelevel with him.

There was nothing about the wall that was particularly out of the ordinary. The wall-paper was different, but aside from that, it looked like a normal office, if a bit nicer than usual.

Still, the walls couldn’t stand up against his Eagle Vision.

As the world washed in blue, his eyes widened as he caught sight of the blood red figure on the other side, holding a rifle and aiming it straight at the man in the chair. The figure tensed and Dan whirled around, color flashing back into view.

“Josh!” he shouted as another horrifically loud bang rang out. He jumped away and both he and his friend dropped to the floor behind a decorative settee.

A moment of silence later, he reactivated his Vision and looked around, but there was nothing but the uniform blue. Blinking it away, he turned to face Josh, but saw nothing. Loud banging footsteps drew his attention above the edge of the settee. He peered over the edge in time to see Josh disappear out the door.

Sighing, he straightened up and regarded the now dead man with a detached expression. He shouldn’t care, and he wasn’t sure he did. But still, he exhaled again. Yet another casualty in their war against this man. This time, it was one of theirs. That didn’t make it any less hard.

Josh reentered the room and Dan swiveled his head to look at him, an eyebrow quirked. His friend refused to meet his eyes and shook his head.

Dropping his own eyes to the desk, he had to resist the urge to slam his palm down on the tabletop. However, as his eyes passed over the surface, he came across something that took him by surprise.

“Josh. I’ve got something,” he said reaching out to pick up what had snagged his attention. The object in question was a piece of paper, slightly spattered with blood, but conveniently far enough to the side to avoid being completely covered with spray.

“I think we’ve been left another message,” he said, picking up the stiff sheet of white parchment and scanning the script that was written in fancy handwriting. Upperclass, as he’d come to recognize, but that could be forged. Might be a useful clue eventually. He filed it away for a later date.

The message, on the other hand, was decidedly more cryptic. Reading through it, he could feel his anger and apprehension rising in unison.

It read:

 

Yes, Assassin. I am fully aware of your presence, and that you have been tracking me like a hound. I feel that I made it clear multiple times on previous occasions that you are to stay away. Nearly all of the men you have sent my way have died, and you may yet meet the same fate if you refuse to see sense and continue to pursue me.  
The Templar Order will rise again in London, regardless of whether or not you stop me. 

~C

 

Handing the note to Josh, he was not disappointed by the angry sigh that left his friend. Corbeau had slipped through their fingers once again, and seemed to be laughing at them. This was the worst possible time they could have lost a target. It was an unsanctioned mission, and Josh wasn’t even meant to be on the mission in the first place.  
Dan could try to take the fall for him, get demoted to Novice. It would be worse for Josh, as the older man was almost in line to become a Master Assassin, and to lose that chance would be even more crushing.

He had promised his father that he would make him proud, and had done his best in that regard. Putting his hands on his hips, he released a breath and looked toward the window. It was getting dark out. If they weren’t back to the compound in time for dinner, they would be found out. Maybe most of the other Assassins wouldn’t give them a second though, but Ethan and the council would likely put two and two together and realize that they had gone against orders.

“We should get out of here. Before more guards arrive and figure out something’s up,” he said. Josh gave a discouraged nod and shuffled past Dan toward the window. Following behind him, they both kicked out the glass pane and fired their grappling hooks into the building across the alley and swung out.

Bracing his legs for impact, Dan slammed into the wall relatively gracefully before wrapping the cord around his wrist once and yanking it out. Dropping the remaining ten or so feet, he landed in a crouch with Josh a few feet ahead of him.

A shout from above drew their attention and Dan flinched as a gunshot rang out and a bullet lodged in the wall about six inches from his head. His eyes flicked to Josh.

“Run,” they stated in unison.

Both men shot out of the alley as fast as their legs could carry them, dodging rifle and pistol bullets. Slipping into the crowd on the sidewalks, they did their best to blend with the denizens of London’s poor folk.

However, upon a quick glance back, Dan could see that a gang of the Templar thugs were barreling out of the building after them. Speeding up, he weaved between the crowd and caught up with Josh again.

“Now we’ve got those guys on our arses!” he growled

“Split up! Meet back at the compound! If one of us doesn’t come back by morning…” Josh replied, trailing off. Dan meant to lock eyes with him, but couldn’t at the rate they were moving. When Josh moved his eyes over briefly in his direction, he gave a short nod and gestured for him to take the high road.

“I’ll play interference! Get out of here! If I don’t make it back, tell them this was just a skirmish--my idea!” he ordered. The older man gave him a fleeting look of concern before signalling his confirmation and veering off to the side and disappearing down another alley.

Turning his head back briefly, Dan counted six Templars gaining on him. He grimaced and pushed his legs even harder.

“Great”, he thought, “Just bloody great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again! I hope you guys like this, as it took forever to write and turned out really long. If I messed something up and didn't catch it, please pardon the error and let me know if you see anything. I don't have a beta, so... Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I will see you all again next time!  
> -SFC01 (fingerguns and confetti)
> 
> P.S. Srsly guys, how do I use Italics here on AO3?


	4. Vague Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the term "ran into" becomes literal.

Twenty minutes after leaving the station, the taxi pulled up outside of 35 Belgrave Square and squealed to a stop. Mary looked out of the rain-spattered window to look out at the white stone townhouse across the pavement. The decorative black iron fence which rose in front of the windows seemed perhaps a bit less intimidating and imperious this time around. She was rather pleased to be able to have such a fine place to get away to from the Abbey. It may look dull on the outside, but it was more than fashionable on the inside, thanks to her Aunt’s admittedly excellent sense of style.

Once Rosamund had paid the cab driver’s fare, the pair slid out of the back seat and onto the pavement, with a hand from Rosamund’s butler. She gave the man an appreciative smile as she stepped out into the typical London late afternoon. The sky was a silvery-grey and tiny raindrops drizzled down onto her mercilessly.

The door shut as soon as she was clear of it, the cab reentered the traffic and sped off again. Pausing to watch it go, she moved in the direction of the front steps of the apartment her Aunt had entered.

However, a sudden cacophony of noise drew her attention down the lane. Her eyes widened to see a group of men all charging down the street...after a single man ahead of them.

She had to admit, she hardly saw him at first, despite the fact that he was in the front, and barrelling toward her at a much faster rate. She didn’t know what it was about him. He was dressed rather strangely, she thought.

He wore a dark coat, which was unlike anything she had seen in this era, and a hood covered his features almost entirely in shadow. The only thing to be seen was his nose and jaw. His mouth was a tight, thin line of determination, which seemed to be the only thing keeping him ahead of his pursuers.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as he charged past her, arms pumping in the air and boots pounding the pavement.

However, he didn’t quite make it past her.

She was shocked when his large upper arm connected with her shoulder and sent her reeling to the side. Stumbling, she stretched her hand out and caught herself on one of the columns that held up the overhang above the doorstep of her Aunt’s apartment.

She knew she should be feeling indignant. No one pushed her, figuratively or physically. No one. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to shout. For some reason, this man didn’t evoke that sort of reaction in her. She could only feel awestruck, a sensation that only grew as she watched his departure. 

Just as his would-be capturers were within a meter’s reach of him, he leapt into the air and, in a single movement that surprised her, landed between the prongs of the wrought-iron fence briefly before pushing off again and grabbing the side of her Aunt’s building and scaling the wall with practiced ease and staggering grace.

The men didn’t bother doubling back, instead watching him as Mary did, but they did however attempt to track his movements and follow him from the ground.

She stared after the figure as he paused for a moment and leant over the edge of the roof and spotted his pursuers below. Mary couldn’t see his face, but she was certain he would be smiling. He gave a cheeky mock salute before he turned and disappeared, the tails of his odd coat whipping behind him in a flash of fluid onyx before there was nothing but sky where he had once been.

For a moment, she simply stared, still leaning on the column of her Aunt’s doorstep overhang. The usual sounds of London resumed, though she supposed they had never really stopped. It was amazing how one’s world could shrink exponentially under the right conditions.

“Mary? What are you still doing out here?” her Aunt inquired, coming back outside to look for her niece.

Mary hmmed as she turned to face her Aunt, immaculate eyebrows rising in question before Rosamund’s words finally sunk in through her many thoughts. “Oh, I just, um,” she stammered, wondering what to tell her Aunt. “I just happened to see an acquaintance,” she finished, hoping it came out smoothly. Mary was nothing if not skilled at hiding her emotions and keeping secrets, but Rosamund had a way of discerning things that even Mary’s mother was completely oblivious to.

The older woman quirked a brow, but said nothing as she turned and reentered the house. “You will be coming inside, this time, won’t you, dear?” she asked once she had reached the door, pausing to glance somewhat suspiciously at her niece

Mary nodded. “Yes, I’ll be right in Aunt Rosamund,” she replied, smiling reassuringly. Her Aunt cast her a brief look which seemed to say “are you certain” before heading inside all the way, but leaving the door open.

As soon as she was out of sight, Mary swiveled her head around to look out at the city once more, this time scanning the rooftops for any sign of the man in black. Seeing nothing, she inhaled deeply before releasing the breath slowly and turning on her heel, entering her Aunt’s apartment and shutting the door behind her.

A part of her wondered if she had imagined him, but the slight ache in her shoulder where he had grazed her and knocked her into the pillar told her differently. Reaching up to rub the sore spot absentmindedly, she wondered if they would cross paths again.

Though, with as big as London was, she doubted it.

 

~oOo~

 

Once he had gotten onto the rooftops, losing the Blighters had been easy. It was just a small matter of keeping to the taller buildings where it would be hard for anyone to climb. He was immensely grateful for all the free-running training that Josh had given him early on. It hadn’t been too difficult, but he had fallen enough times to know it wasn’t at all fun.

Of course, Josh had started him on the ground, having had yet to teach him to scale buildings, but thankfully his successes outweighed his failures and he got the hang of the movements before they started going on missions.

Tucking his legs up beneath him, he vaulted neatly over a short wall and dropped into a roll to expel his extra momentum. Using the roll to propel him to his feet once more, he kept running. The sun was beginning to go down beyond the city skyline. He would have to hurry if he was going to make good on his plan and meet Josh at the compound.

Running along the edge of the roof, he glanced down momentarily to see that the men who had been chasing him had either given up or gotten lost. Moving too fast to sigh in relief, he kept moving forward, heading toward the marker that was the Big Ben clock tower looming in the distance.

Even if I do make it back in time, Josh and I were still gone for a few hours at least. Ethan will know we did something, he thought, pivoting over another wall and dropping to another roof below. Getting up and continuing on his way, he let his mind wander to his plan.

He had told Josh he would take the fall for their absence, but it had to be a good excuse, or the council would see right through it, and even then they still might.

It would have to be something simple. Thinking back to the mission, he considered what he had to work with. Their leads had pointed them at a Blighter stronghold, so he could use that to his advantage. While Ethan might be the mentor to the London Assassin Bureau, Josh lead the Rooks and kept the Blighters relatively off the street. He fought for the little guy. If he found out that a group of Blighters had banded together in the city, that would have been enough reason to leave the compound. Just like his father, the rules of the Creed just barely managed to ground him.

Yes, that would make a good excuse. Dan had gotten word of a Blighter stronghold from one of their informants in the city and passed the news on to Josh. They had then gone to thin the herd and been successful.

Scaling down the last building in his path, he righted his coat and then moved across the street. He found it odd that, despite the fact that he looked incredibly out of place in his manner of dress, no one gave him a second glance. Well, aside from young children or elderly folks; people that others tended to ignore. 

Reaching the clock tower, he walked its perimeter until he found the site of the secret entrance -- a small door in the side of the structure for the men who serviced the clock. However, he wouldn’t be going up. A hidden trapdoor at the base of the stairs was hidden to look like a tile on the floor.

Digging his fingertips under the seam, he hauled up the stone and grabbed onto the iron rung that would pull it back into place and jumped into the gaping black hole below.

Releasing it before he dislocated his shoulder in the fall, he dropped into a huge pile of hay that the Assassins left for those who entered. Finding his way out of the pile in the dark, he felt around for the wall. There was no light in this section of the tunnel, but he could see some up ahead.

Pressed for time, he let go of the wall as soon as he found it and ran for the light. He could only hope that Josh hadn’t made any extra stops along the way and was already back.

A hand grabbing his shoulder and snagging his hood back, pulled him up short. Whirling around, he felt the hand release him as he cranked his leg up and struck out in a roundhouse kick.

“Relax, mate. It’s only me,” a familiar voice chided him as a familiar figure rose up in the darkness. A familiar grin stretched across his features.

Sighing in exasperation, Dan pulled his hood back over his head. “You really need to stop that, Josh. I mean it. I swear I’ll accidentally kill you one day,” he replied.

“I’d like to see ya try,” came his friend’s usual rebuttal. Dan cast him a look. “I know, I know. You probably could nowadays. I s’pose you would know how to defeat me best.”

“Everything I learned, I learned from you,” Dan reminded him. Glancing back down the hall towards the center of the London sanctuary, he turned back to look at his friend. “We’re short on time. If we want to keep Ethan from noticing, we had best hurry,” he stated, moving off down the tunnel again.

“Just out of curiosity, Danny-boy,” Josh began, using his friend’s nickname, “did you figure out how we’re going to explain our disappearance? If it comes up, that is.”

“Joshua Frye, I’m hurt. Of course I did. I got wind of a Blighter stronghold from a Rook informant and told you. Then we both went to shut it down, neglecting to tell Ethan or the council as it was rather large and needed to be taken care of immediately,” he explained. Josh nodded as they walked, seeming to commit their story to memory.

That was another thing about them. Though they hadn’t known each other for a tremendously long time, they had become thick as thieves quickly enough. As close as brothers. The memories he had made with Josh and the Assassins helped him feel a little better about not recalling his past.

Three years and he still had yet to recall anything of significance. There had been nights when he dreamt of the countryside, but he couldn’t put a name to the place. He preferred those memory-visions. Other nights he woke drenched in a cold sweat and gasping for air, if not yelling.

Those dreams were all the same. He would be careening down a country road, trees flashing past in a blur of greens and browns, sunlight filtering through the leaves onto him. One second everything was peaceful exhilaration with the wind whipping through his hair as he grinned into the breeze. The next was a jolt that could cause heart failure, and phantom pains in his head, back, and arms.

He would wake gasping for breath, sometimes Josh at his side asking if he was alright.  
Fortunately, the nightmares had lessened. He found that he didn’t have as much of a problem with them if he wore himself down during the day before retiring. However, when he did that, he found that more pleasant dreams evaded him as well, which was something of a disappointment.

He always told Josh what the dreams were about when the other man asked. It was the same every time, but he found it nice to have someone to tell. And Josh refused to give up on his memory. Alongside his training to become an Assassin and Josh’s partner in crime, they had been working on trying to figure out his past and who he might have been. But without any proper identification on him, and not even an idea of a name, it was pretty much impossible.

Still they had kept at it. Dan smiled to himself under the shadow of his hood. Josh, though a bit wild and a touch reckless, was a good man and a great friend. He didn’t know what would have become of him if the other man hadn’t found him in the alley that day.

I would be dead, he thought, looking up to glance at his friend who had gone quiet.

Frowning sympathetically, he reached out and placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder. He knew what his friend was thinking. “It’s alright, mate. We’ll get ‘im next time,” he said, giving his shoulder a short clap as his friend nodded.

“I know, but we say that every time. And how many more of the Rooks, my father’s men, London’s men, will die?” he asked, brown eyes searching Dan’s blue ones. The younger man shook his head.

“I don’t know. But we’re Assassins. Killing Templars is what we’re meant to be good at. So one of them is slippery than usual. He can’t run forever. London’s only so big, and if he intends to reclaim it for the Order, he can’t leave. We’ll get him,” he assured. Josh must have seen the fire igniting in his gaze and gave a short nod and a half smile that signalled his growing confidence. They turned and kept moving into the compound.

“Now just to convince my brother-dearest to keep me on the case,” he said with an exasperated sigh. Dan smiled.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to. Just present your argument calmly, but don’t act detached either,” he said as they made it to the main hub of the sanctuary. Hanging a left down another corridor, they passed several other Assassins, either alone or in groups, walking to and from the mess hall.

“So how did you make out with the Blighters? Not too scratched up, I hope?” Josh inquired. Dan shrugged and rolled his right shoulder, wincing a bit at the action.

“Not too bad, though I think I may have bruised my shoulder,” he confessed, reaching a hand up to rub it.

“What happened? You fall or something?” Josh asked, amused. Dan cast him a bemused look before shaking his head.

“No. It was all a blur. I kept them on my tail by running on the streets for a while. I wound up around Lancaster, I think. I remember running past a lot of people, but then I suppose I…” he trailed off, his memory of the moment returning to him. It had all happened so fast that he hadn’t been able to really take a look at the person he had collided with, let alone apologize. With six or seven Blighters on his tails, it would have meant death.

He remembered a lady. With dark hair and dark eyes, in travel clothes. They were the latest style, he assumed. Her hair was either short or pulled up, but either way, he couldn’t escape the feeling that it was the latter, and that it was...familiar.

A hand waved in front of his glazed over eyes and he jolted back to attention. “Sorry, Josh. Zoned out again, I suppose,” he said sheepishly, moving to rub the back of his neck. Josh smiled sympathetically and rested his hand on his shoulder.

“You haven’t done that a lot recently. You remember something?” he asked gently. Dan’s brow wrinkled in thought.

“Regarding how I hurt my shoulder, yes. Though...I think there’s something else too,” he said. Josh’s eyebrows rose in question as he looked at him expectantly. “The person I ran into seemed familiar, even though I didn’t get a very clear look at her.”

“Her?” Josh inquired, voice taking on a tone that was crossed between incredulous and amused. “What’d she look like?” he asked.

Dan shook his head. “Not sure. Dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin. That’s all I could see, it was all such a blur,” he said regretfully. Josh clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook him a little to get him to look at him, an encouraging smile on his face.

“Don’t worry Danny-boy. We’ll find out who you were and who your little mystery lady is yet,” he said before starting to walk again into the dining hall. Dan frowned and sighed.

“You do realize that ‘dark hair, dark eyes, and fair skin’ makes up at least half of the female population of London, right?” he asked, following his friend. Josh laughed.

“Have some faith, mate! We’ll get to the bottom of your mystery if its the last thing I drag you into,” he said.

Dan shook his head again, this time at his friend’s antics. He might get Dan into a lot of interesting situations, but at least he was honest about it.

“It probably will be,” he muttered as they reached the long table where dishes of food were laid out for all of the present Assassins to take. Dan picked up a plate and started loading on what he had come to like. Some vegetables, chicken, a potato, and a few other things he thought to try. At the end of the table, he grabbed a flagon of whatever alcohol had been provided for that day.

Pausing for a moment beside Josh, he scanned the hall for an empty table. Spotting one, he moved forward, jerking his head at Josh for the older man to follow him. Claiming their seats across from one another, they made use of the provided silverware and started on their meals.

Dan, perhaps a bit more vigilant than his ‘brother’ kept an eye on the entrance, waiting for the presence of the man who would be wondering where they had gone off to. It didn’t matter that they had only been gone a couple hours and no one else had noticed them leave. Ethan would know. He knew his brother, and the younger Frye sibling wasn’t known by anyone to sit still when told.

Sure enough, a few minutes after the pair had started eating, a familiar figure appeared in the entrance, other Assassins on their way in and out giving him a fairly wide berth as he passed out of deference to their superior. Dan’s eyes widened marginally and he dropped the piece of chicken he had been eating back to his plate. Josh, who had his back to the door, stopped eating as well and looked up with owlish brown eyes at his friend.

“How close is he?” he asked nervously. Dan looked back down at his plate and wiped his hands on the cloth napkin before picking up a fork and began messing with the food on his plate, stabbing the potato and tearing it open.

“Still in the door. Don’t think he’s spotted us yet,” he said, flickering his eyes up briefly to see where Ethan was now. “Oh, never mind. Here he comes,” he said, scooping out some of the potato and stuffing it in his mouth. Josh gave him a panicked look, but Dan simply stared at him in a way that said, “You know our alibi, I’m staying out this.”

“Josh, Daniel,” came an authoritative voice, much like that of Dan’s friend. Food still in his mouth, the latter simply smiled smugly as he continued to chew. Josh acknowledged his brother with a smile, but Dan could tell he wanted to grimace and groan at the sound of a chair being dragged across the stone floor to their table.

They all sat in silence as Ethan straddled the chair and leaned forward, looking between the two friends and alleged ‘troublemakers.’ Josh, in an attempt to act casual, sawed off a piece of whatever meat he had chosen and shoved it in his mouth. If their positions weren’t on the line, Dan would have chuckled at his friend’s endeavor to keep his quick mouth shut.

“So,” Ethan began, causing both men to look at him, “Where have you both been and done?”

The partners locked eyes with one another for a split second and dropped their forks to their plates in unison, sitting back in their chairs. The question, which had been, regrettably, directed at both of them, had contained a heavily veiled threat. 

Ethan had a way of sounding casual, as if he were asking about the weather or economy, when he was actually probing for critical informations. Dan had been subject to more than one of his “silent interrogations” before he had caught on. Since figuring out the other man’s tactics, he had done his best to simply be outright and truthful with the Assassin mentor on all occasions.

Well, almost all.

Regardless, he had built up such a reputation as a reliable source of information that Ethan rarely questioned him. It helped that he had provided the older sibling with information about how the younger was faring from time to time, all truthfully and completely confidentially. 

Thus, it was with practiced ease that he launched into their prepared story of how their day had gone.

“Well, not long after we left, I received word of a Blighter stronghold near Hyde Park. We went to investigate and discovered the information was solid,” he said, leaning forward slightly to reach for a piece of carrot before popping it in the mouth and chewing on it to indicate that it was Josh’s turn to explain. His friend didn’t miss a beat as Ethan swiveled his head to look at his sibling.

“And? Is it done?” he inquired. Josh nodded.

“We brought them peace, brother,” he affirmed. “All twenty-three of them.” It was Ethan’s turn to nod, this time in approval. However, a moment later, he stopped and eyed his brother with suspicion.

“Any Templars?” he asked, doing the probing thing again. Josh shook his head.

“No, none,” Dan replied casually. It wasn’t a lie. Or, at least, Dan was getting better at finding loopholes faster. Technically, there had been a Templar present, but he had fled the scene without a trace in seconds. He felt his insides burn at the thought of how close they had come to stopping one of the most influential Templars in London.

Ethan seemed to buy it without question and nodded once more. “Oh well. That said, I’m pleased you found yourselves a distraction for the time being. I must say it sounds like you’ve had a more productive day than me,” he commented, resting his chin on his arms, which were crossed over the top of the back of the chair, and looking like an overgrown child.

Josh raised a brow and gave him a sympathetic look. “Council giving you grief, Ethan?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the tabletop and abandoning his food. The older brother shrugged and sighed in exasperation.

“Well, I was trying to get them to revisit the idea of taking down Corbeau before we move on any of the other Templars as he seems to be the most ambitious. Based on the offensive ways he’s been moving, chances are he’ll rise like Crawford Starrick and we’ll have another crisis on our hands,” he explained, annoyance clear enough.

“To make things worse,” he continued, “ Some of the council won’t budge on the idea that we need to take out the higher-ranked Templars first, the ones who have more wherewithal than Corbeau. None of them have been in the actual field for years, so they don’t completely understand what’s happening out there.

“I tried to get them to pool more resources into finding this arse. Get more men on the case. And keep the both of you on as well to head up the search,” he went on, gesturing with his chin at the two Assassin partners sitting on either side of him. “Then they went all argy-bargy on each other and couldn’t reach a bloody unanimous decision.”

Dan looked over at Josh, who appeared equally surprised by his brother’s sudden and unexpected rant in the middle of the dining hall. Thankfully, the older Frye had kept his voice down at a normal level and no one was looking their way. Or, at least, knew better than to look their way.

Ethan sighed, seeming to feel better after having told two people he felt he could trust. Giving both men a small smile, he chuckled a bit. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to rant to the both of you,” he said.

Josh smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, brother. I admit I don’t envy you and your job in the least,” he said, easily offering the veiled encouragement to his sibling. Ethan shrugged.

“We both chose our paths. I think we chose them wisely. Though I feel I would enjoy your work more,” he replied before the trio lapsed into silence. Dan couldn’t help but smile at the brothers.

They had both worked hard to make their father, who was both mentor of the London Bureau and leader of the gang known as the Rooks, equally proud of them. When the man had finally retired, both sons had filled one of his roles, and done so nicely. Both were firm, but fair, though one had a greater predilection for sitting behind desks and debating for hours on end than the other.

Ethan reeled back a bit in his seat, appearing to recall something and then spoke again. “I almost forgot. I came to tell you I have another mission for you,” he stated, leaning forward. Josh and Dan glanced at one another curiously. Another mission? So soon after being pulled from their last one?

“What is it?” the latter asked their mentor, interest showing as he tilted forward onto his elbows.

“There’s a man suspected to be a Templar in the upper tiers of the social ladder. We’re working on figuring out if the intelligence on him is true or not, but in order to get a clearer picture, we need to have him watched,” he explained.

“And the Council thinks we’re a good idea, why exactly?” Josh asked sarcastically.

“Like I said, they want you off the Corbeau job. I’ll do my best to change that, but I’m not sure what only one of me can do against five of the other nine council members,” he said.

“Our target,” Dan prompted, getting back to the subject at hand, “what’s his name?”

Ethan looked up and met his eyes. “Gillingham. Anthony Gillingham.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for not posting anything recently to those who like this story. I have a term paper to write for college and its draining most of the time I usually spend writing fan stuff (case in point).   
> Anyway...  
> Looks like things are heating up around now. Got to look in a bit more on Josh and Ethan's relationship, and a bit of how "Dan" fits in between them. Sorry that Mary's bit is so short, despite the fact that I've watched almost the entire Downton series, she's still a hard character for me to pin down. I hope I get better at her (that combined with a greater desire to write stuff from Matthew's POV...)  
> Well, I suppose I shall see you when I see you. I hope I can update soon, I really like writing this story. :)
> 
> \--SockFightChamp, out! (*fingerguns*)


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